


you say hello (and i lose)

by hcjime



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, oikawas a grade a idiot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 10:48:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19886359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hcjime/pseuds/hcjime
Summary: Oikawa Tooru, romancer extraordinaire, has no idea how to get his best friend to date him.[or : oikawa decides he has to confess to iwaizumi before his twentieth birthday. the problem? he has five days and no idea how to woo someone]





	you say hello (and i lose)

6.

“Iwa-chan,” Tooru says. They’re on a boat for some reason, and the water’s purple and they’re sinking, maybe, except Tooru knows they won’t drown. Hajime looks at him, fishing gear on, gaze impossibly warm.

“Hey,” he says, which strikes Tooru as odd because they’ve been standing here for hours or possibly days.

“I’m in love with you.” Tooru doesn’t know he’s going to say it until he does, but his heart suddenly feels like it’s been slotted into place. Hajime smiles, wide and embarrassed, blushing a little. The water’s green now, calming and gorgeous.

“Me too,” he says. Tooru beams.

“Good. Can I – can I kiss you?” he asks. Hajime nods, the tips of his ears bright red, and just when Tooru’s about to kiss him, he wakes up.

He lies in his bed for approximately twenty minutes, staring at the ceiling and hoping he can forget what happened. He’s had dreams where he and Hajime had been doing something domestic, or maybe dating, but that was the first time he’s ever said he loved him.

_ It’s a dream, _ he thinks, and then, just to make sure it doesn’t mean anything, he dials Hajime’s number.

“What the hell,” Hajime says, his face filling up the screen. His voice is groggy ( _ obviously, _ Tooru realises,  _ you woke him up at four in the morning _ ), and his eyes are sort of puffy. It’s adorable.

_ Oh no, _ Tooru thinks, and then,  _ oh, shit. _

“Um,” he says. “Iwa-chan.”

“What?”

“I, uh.” Tooru pauses. “My birthday’s soon.” Hajime groans – flops back onto his bed.

“Is that it?” he asks. “Do you want me to wish you happy birthday every day or something, because I’m not gonna do something that stupid two years in a row.” Tooru grins despite himself.

“No,” he says. “I think I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“Oh,” Hajime says, soft. “Did you have a nightmare?” Tooru snorts.

“I don’t think I’d call it that.” He closes his eyes – he’ll have to tell Kuroo about this, because he’s going to be weird about it all week and Kuroo’s definitely annoyingly observant enough to notice.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Hajime asks.

“No,” Tooru says again. “I think – could we just talk? Until you fall asleep again.”

“Okay,” Hajime agrees, and they talk about classes and volleyball and Godzilla until Hajime dozes off, leaving Tooru to stare at his ceiling for three more hours.

5.

It’s terrible, Tooru thinks, being around Hajime for this long and just figuring out everything he’s been feeling now. When Hajime’s laughing or talking or when he stares at Tooru with a certain tenderness Tooru still can’t place – Tooru aches. He feels like his ribs are being held together with Scotch tape, like if someone pokes him they’ll come apart and his heart will start bleeding onto the floor.

“You’re looking awfully melancholic,” says Kuroo as he drops onto the couch next to Tooru.

“Who even says melancholic,” Tooru replies, pointing a spoon toward him accusatorily. “Literally nobody says that; talk like a normal person.” Kuroo just shrugs in a way that says  _ you’re not exactly one to talk, dickweed. _ (Maybe Tooru’s reading too much into it. Probably not.)

“You know,” Kuroo begins, “teenage angst usually ends, like, before people turn twenty.”

“I’m not twenty,” Tooru says.

“You have five days.” Kuroo looks at him, an eyebrow arched. “And then you’re just kind of a loser.”

“I’ll never be a loser.” Tooru realises taking a spoonful of neapolitan ice cream directly from the carton as he says this is antithetical, but – sometimes winners eat ice cream too. He’s fine.

“I’m just saying.” Kuroo grabs a plastic spoon from god knows where and sticks it directly into the chocolate. “When you turn twenty, you’re not a teenager anymore. Ergo, your gross –  _ whatever _ with Iwaizumi becomes , like, sad adult man doesn’t know how to handle his love life. Or something.”

“Or something,” Tooru echoes. He blinks. “Wait, did you just say ergo? Is that even a word?”

“I feel like you’re missing the point here – and yeah, it’s a word,” Kuroo snaps. “Obviously, did you not take like, a high school literature class, or read a book that didn’t have pictures, or–”

“Okay, no need to get defensive–”

“I’m not being  _ defensive _ ; I just–” He drags a hand through his hair, turning it into even more of a mess than it already is. “Whatever. You just – you gotta confess or you’re gonna be a sad old man.”

“I thought you said sad adult man,” Tooru says. “And you’re a hypocrite; confess to Bokuto first and I’ll do it.”

“I’m nineteen for four more months,” Kuroo replies with a grin somewhere between shit-eating and devious. “I have time. You don’t, sad old man.”

“Fuck you,” Tooru scoffs. “I’m not gonna – base a life-altering decision on whether you think I’m a sad old man or not.”

“I didn’t say you needed to,” Kuroo says easily. He stands up and stretches. “Just that you’re gonna be a sad old man. If I come back and you’re still eating ice cream, I’m gonna empty out the freezer.”

“Where are you going?” Tooru asks. Kuroo gestures vaguely toward the door.

“I have errands.” He trips over his feet on his way out – rights himself quickly with another smile. “See you later, old man.”

“I’m nineteen,” Tooru calls indignantly. He stares at his spoon. He’s not going to confess to Hajime just because Kuroo told him to - Kuroo’s one of the stupidest people he knows, and he’s not stupid. Who cares if he’s going to be twenty? Twenty’s still young, and he has time. He’ll be fine.

4.

“I have to tell Iwa-chan I like him.”

“Wait,” Matsukawa says. He swirls his straw in his drink, something dark green which looks obnoxiously healthy. Hajime would like it. “You like Iwaizumi?”

“We knew this,” Hanamaki says. “Dude, we talked about this in high school; remember how they were, like, all over each other all the time–”

“No – I knew that; I meant – you realised you like Iwaizumi?”

“I feel like,” Tooru says, “I’m missing something here.” Hanamaki throws him a smile he used to wear when he got caught talking during class.

“So why do you wanna tell him now?” he asks. His grin goes a little wider, conniving and sharp. “And not, like, four years ago.”

“I didn’t know I liked him four years ago,” Tooru whines. “And you’re supposed to be helping me come up with a confession plan since you’re his best friends – other than me, obviously – so  _ help me _ .”

“Oh, wait,” Matsukawa says, distantly. Tooru stares. “Um. I invited him here; I thought it could be a fun get-together type thing since we haven’t hung out as a group in a month or something.”

“Mattsun,” Tooru hisses. Hanamaki looks incredibly pleased at this development, the bastard.

“I thought we could like, do karaoke and laugh at how you can’t sing,” Mattsun continues. “But I guess it would kind of get in the way of your master scheme or something.”

“Oh, Oikawa has another scheme?” a familiar voice asks, swinging into the booth next to Tooru. “How surprising.” He’s already far too close. This is the worst. Tooru’s ears are bright pink.

“Speak of the devil,” Hanamaki says, because he sucks. Hajime blinks.

“Oikawa’s scheme has something to do with me?”

“Most of Oikawa’s thoughts have something to do with you, I think,” Matsukawa says thoughtfully. Tooru’s two seconds from strangling both of them. Hajime could probably cover it up for him; he’s a good enough liar. If he calls Kuroo he can hide the bodies, too –

Hajime nudges Tooru’s knee with his own. “You look tired.” He reaches over and steals one of Tooru’s fries. “Have you been sleeping enough? Are exams fucking you over? You promised after last year you’d get more rest; if you’re not I’ll kill you and then call your sister and then she’ll kill you again.”

“I’m not seventeen anymore, Iwa-chan,” Tooru answers easily. “I can take care of myself.”

“That doesn’t mean you do.” Tooru wants to say something witty and fun, but he’s sort of distracted by the slope of Hajime’s nose. (When did he get such a cute nose? Why is Tooru finding noses cute now? What’s going on?) Hajime nudges him again, slightly harder this time. “See? You’re zoning out right now.”

“Haha, yeah,” Tooru says. “Zoning out.” Hajime gives him an odd look before taking another one of his fries. “Buy your own food.”

“You never finish your fries; I’m helping you out,” Hajime replies. Across the table, Hanamaki and Matsukawa are exchanging the kind of glances Tooru’s never quite been able to read, even when he spent three years trying. They always show up when he and Hajime are speaking, always look exasperated and a little bit of Something Else.

Hajime swallows. “So what scheme?”

“Um,” Tooru says. “The scheme to… have the best twentieth birthday ever.” He smiles winningly. Hajime looks vaguely amused. His smile is a little crooked and Tooru had noticed that before, back when they were five and Hajime grinned easy and wide at him when they picked bugs together, but now it’s hitting him like he’s been socked in the face.

“I think most people call that a party.”

“Haha,” Tooru repeats robotically. “Well. I’m special that way.”

“I was hoping college would make you less weird,” Hajime says.

“I was hoping college would make you less of a bully,” Tooru replies haughtily. He takes a sip of Matsukawa’s gross, green drink – wrinkles his nose as he wonders why the hell he just did that. “I guess we can’t all get what we wish for.”

“I’m hoping you can get at least one thing you wish for,” Hanamaki says, and Tooru kicks his shin so hard he yelps.

Hajime’s still there after all of them finish lunch and walk around town for the rest of the day – after Hanamaki and Matsukawa say their goodbyes, promising Tooru they’ll write him the most embarrassing birthday card possible. He’s always been there, always the last person Tooru talked to before he went to bed even after they went to different universities. Tooru doesn’t know why he’s getting emotional over this. Maybe he is turning into a sad old man.

“See you tomorrow?” Hajime asks. “You’re going home, right?” It’s dark out, quiet aside from the occasional honking of a taxi. Hajime’s eyes are sort of gorgeous, Tooru notices, has noticed a million times before. He could confess now, if he weren’t a) in need of something more dramatic and b) an enormous coward.

“Yeah,” he says instead. “See you tomorrow. Don’t steal Takeru from me again.”

“It’s not my fault he likes me better,” Hajime replies, already walking away, his thumbs hitched into the pockets of his jeans. “Watch, I’ll steal your whole family from you.” A stupid smile is blooming across Tooru’s face.

“You’re just bitter because I already stole yours,” he calls. Hajime flips him off without looking back, and Tooru, despite now standing alone just outside a strip mall, feels strangely at home.

3.

Since Tooru’s friends are completely useless, apparently ( _ you already knew this, _ Kuroo says when Tooru voices so,  _ we all suck. _ ), he’s decided to resort to Google instead. Google says flowers, chocolate, and slow songs are romantic. Hajime doesn’t like sweets and Tooru can’t sing or dance at all, so that leaves flowers and about four extra pages of Google search results.

“You should write him a letter,” Kuroo advises. “Akaashi said letters are romantic, and he’s the only functional person I know, so.”

“Akaashi isn’t dating anyone,” Tooru replies, probably too snippily because Akaashi really is both very nice and one of the only functional people he knows.

“Akaashi turned down six people in the past two weeks.” Kuroo leaps off the ground in some parkour move that would normally look showoffish but seems oddly natural with him. “And he’s got some weird, like, sort of thing going with Kenma, but don’t tell him I told you about that.” He grins. “Good luck meeting the family.”

“They're literally my family; why would I - you know what? Never mind. You’re sure you don’t wanna come with? My sister would probably love you.” Tooru pauses. “Actually, I don’t want you meeting my mom.” Kuroo throws a hand against his chest.

“Are you ashamed of me?” he gasps.

“Yes,” Tooru replies. “I have to go or I’m gonna miss the next train; see you tomorrow; don’t tell Iwa-chan about anything I’ve been doing or I’ll murder you myself.” Kuroo blows him a kiss as he walks out.

When he gets to his house, Hajime’s already waiting on the porch outside. His skin is sun-warm, and Tooru swears he’s glittering or something when he waves. “You’re late,” he says.

“Only fashionably,” Tooru says with a wink. Hajime rolls his eyes.

“By the way,” he says as they head inside, “Takeru still likes me better.”

“No, he doesn’t – ”

“Yes, I do,” Takeru calls from the living room. Tooru glares.

“Nee-chan, tell Takeru to be nicer to his favorite uncle.” Tooru’s sister snorts.

“I’m pretty sure his favorite uncle’s Iwaizumi,” she says, and Tooru splutters while Hajime laughs. (Why is his laugh that cute? How had Tooru not realised how cute his laugh is?)

“Hajime,” Tooru’s mother says, pinching Hajime’s cheek as they sit down, “have you grown since the last time you visited?”

“He hasn’t grown since we were sixteen,” Tooru answers smugly, and both Hajime and his mother glare at him. 

“I was asking Hajime.”

“You’re not even that much taller,” Hajime mutters,

“And Iwa-san’s stronger, which is cooler,” Takeru adds.

“You guys are the worst family,” Tooru says.

“You just can’t take honesty,” his sister counters. Tooru sticks his tongue out, but everyone’s smiling. It’s always nice to be home but it’s nicer with Hajime next to him, their thighs pressed together as they answer his mother’s several questions about university. He’s so warm all the time. Tooru kind of wants to sit next to him and steal his heat forever.

“Hey, Iwa-chan,” he says with a yawn when they’re (finally) alone in his room, near midnight. They’re both in his bed, but it’s only a twin size and way too small for one grown man, let alone two, so they’re tangled together almost everywhere. “What do you think is romantic?” Hajime throws him an odd look.

“I don’t know.” He readjusts himself so Tooru’s now lying on his chest, arms wrapped around his stomach. This is – it’s not normal best friend stuff, right? There’s no way most friends act like this. He’ll have to ask Kuroo. “I’ve never really thought about it. Why?” Tooru panics – he should’ve had an answer prepared; he’s so stupid –

“I’m writing a novel,” he blurts. Hajime raises his eyebrows.

“You would’ve failed literature second year if Mattsun didn’t save your ass.”

“Well,” Tooru says, beaming. “Things have changed. I’m, uh, writing romance. And I’m asking everyone what they think is good romance. For research and stuff.”

“For research,” Hajime repeats, unconvinced.

“I guess I shouldn’t have expected you to think anything’s romantic, though, since you’re basically just a gorilla who can talk.” Tooru’s speaking too fast but he doesn’t know how to slow down. “Like King Kong.”

“Can King Kong talk?” Hajime asks. Tooru blinks.

“I think so.”

“I’m pretty sure he can’t.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re wrong, like always,” Tooru replies, and they argue about King Kong until they fall asleep.

2.

“I’m running out of time,” Tooru says into the phone.

“Whoa,” Kuroo replies. “Are you dying?”

“What – no, I’m about to turn twenty and then I’m gonna be a sad old man and I’ll never find love, Tetsu-chan; I’ll die alone and I told Iwa-chan I was writing a romance novel so now I have to learn how to  _ write _ –”

“Why would you tell him you were writing a romance novel?” Tooru can _hear_ Kuroo’s smile. He has the shittiest friends in the world.

“Because I asked him what he thought was romantic and didn’t plan ahead.” He runs a hand through his hair, looking for his wallet. “Maybe I should get him flowers. That’s what Google said.”

“Like I said,” Kuroo says, far too wisely for someone who started crying last week because they ran out of instant ramen, “you can never go wrong with a letter.”

“Too flashy; he’d hate it.”

“I mean, you’re kind of too flashy and he likes you.” Kuroo pauses. “Hopefully.”

“Thanks.” Tooru uncaps a pen with his teeth, hastily scrawling  _ went shopping be back soon tell iwa-chan so that he doesn’t miss me too much hahahahahaha _ onto a sticky note before he walks out. “What if I write him a song?”

“You literally just said a letter would be too flashy,” Kuroo says flatly. “And I know you can’t sing.”

“Okay, crush my dreams,” Tooru replies, scowling when Kuroo laughs. “I’ll just buy him flowers, I guess. What do I even say? Like,  _ oh, hi, Iwa-chan; I know we’ve known each other for our whole lives and I figured this out like, four days ago but I’m in love with you _ –”

“Or you could just be normal and say you like him like a normal person.”

“With flowers.”

“With flowers,” Kuroo agrees.

Tooru ends up not buying flowers, because he’s still kind of a coward. Instead, he buys about six packs of milk bread and a couple packs of agedashi tofu to be a thoughtful best friend. When he gets home, his mother and Hajime are making breakfast together while everyone else is still upstairs. They’re talking too quietly for Tooru to hear, though he catches Hajime saying something like  _ don’t know if it’s worth the risk. _ Tooru’s mother just ruffles his hair.

“Iwa-chan,” Tooru calls, kicking one leg in the air as he drops his bags. “Did you miss me?” Hajime drops his spatula, wincing when it clatters against the floor.

“Fuck you,” he says.

“That doesn’t answer the question.” Tooru hurries to the stove, peering over Hajime’s shoulder. “Just an omelet? With  _ vegetables _ ? You’re so boring.”

“Not all of us like to have a carton of ice cream for breakfast, asshole.” Hajime’s still staring at the spatula, looking vaguely lost. “Get away from the stove or you’re gonna light yourself on fire.”

“Rude,” Tooru replies, although he does walk away, toward the table. “I’ll have you know I’m capable of cracking eggs now.”

“Congratulations.” Hajime hides a grin behind his palm. “It only took you nineteen years.”

“Almost twenty,” Tooru chirps. He rips open a package of milk bread, nibbling on one while he waits for Hajime to sit with him.

“Kuroo texted me this morning,” Hajime says casually when he sits down. Tooru’s heart stops.

“Was he crying about ramen?” he manages. “He tends to do that.”

“How are you two even alive – no,” Hajime says, exasperated, “he wasn’t. He asked me what I thought of flowers. Isn’t that a weird question?”

Tooru laughs awkwardly. “Right,” he says. “So weird.” He pauses. “But what do you think about flowers?” Hajime stares at him. “For my romance novel, obviously.”

“For your romance novel.”

“That’s what I said.” Tooru shoves an entire piece of milk bread in his mouth before he can say anything else stupid.

Hajime just shrugs. “I found out I’m mildly allergic a couple months ago, but theoretically, they’re good.”

“You’re allergic,” Tooru repeats. Hajime nods, looking mildly concerned.

“Are you sure you’ve been sleeping?” he asks. Tooru smiles but it’s tight around the eyes. He makes a mental note –  _ no flowers, no chocolate, no singing. _ That leaves him with approximately zero ideas.

Oikawa Tooru, romancer extraordinaire, has no idea how to get his best friend to date him.

This is fine.

1.

“You fucking idiot,” Hanamaki says, sounding incredibly exhausted, “you can get him fake flowers.”

“Um,” Tooru replies, and then, “I forgot those were a thing.”

“Yeah, I know.” Hanamaki exhales for a long moment. “Just – please buy them and tell him or whatever; I physically can’t see this happen for another year. You two are, in the nicest way possible, disgusting.”

“I don’t see how that can be nice, like, in any way.”

“Please hang up on me before I show up a day early to fight you myself.”

“You’d lose,” Tooru says before he can stop himself.

“Issei would fight you too, so we wouldn’t. I’m hanging up on you now; don’t call me again until you’ve confessed.” Before Tooru can reply, he’s met with a  _ beep. _

He’s not sure how much of Hanamaki’s anger is because it’s five in the morning and how much is because he and Hajime have apparently been doing  _ this _ (whatever that means) for years now, but either way, Hanamaki’s surprisingly terrifying when he’s mad and Tooru doesn’t want to mess with him.

Tooru ends up going to a nearby supermarket after a few hours, asking for the biggest bouquet they have, and also buying chocolate (for himself – it’s almost his birthday, okay? He can treat himself). When he gets back, Hajime’s on the porch, looking incredibly confused, which is understandable. Tooru’s currently dressed in alien pajamas, holding an enormous bouquet in one hand and a bag of chocolates in the other.

“Iwa-chan,” Tooru says, breathless. Hajime’s eyes flicker between him and the flowers.

“Hey,” he says.

“I’m in love with you.” Hajime freezes for half a moment – enough time for Tooru to catch it.

“I – sorry, what?”

“I’m in love with you,” Tooru repeats, feeling his heart sinking, “and I completely understand if you don’t feel the same way; I just had to tell you for like, closure or something and I really hope it doesn’t change anything between us – ”

“I hope it does,” Hajime interrupts.

Tooru blinks. “What?”

“I hope it changes things between us,” Hajime says, and now he’s walking down the steps of the porch, up to Tooru, close enough that Tooru can touch him. “Because I – me too. I’m in love with you too.”

“Oh,” Tooru says. Hajime snorts.

“That’s all? You talk about how much of a romantic you are but when someone confesses to you all you say is  _ oh _ . Unbelievable.”

“Not someone,” Tooru corrects. “You. Who I’m in love with.”

“We’ve established that, yeah.” Hajime’s ears are bright red. Tooru wants to kiss him, and it occurs to him that he’ll be able to, again and again and again for hopefully a really long time.

“I’m really happy,” Tooru says. Hajime doesn’t say  _ me too _ , but he smiles, crooked and warm and fond, and Tooru knows he feels the same.

epilogue: 0.

“Happy birthday,” everyone shouts, and Hajime leans in to kiss Tooru, soft and sweet. Distantly, Tooru hears Kuroo saying something obnoxious and Matsukawa and Hanamaki laughing – introducing him to them was probably one of the worse decisions Tooru’s made, but he doesn’t especially care right now.

“Hey,” Tooru says. “Would you still have said you loved me,” he still feels a little giddy saying it out loud, “if I’d sung a song to you?”

Hajime stares at him, horrified. “What.”

“It was in my shortlist,” Tooru explains cheerfully. “ _ Romantic things to do for Iwa-chan _ . Tetsu-chan said I should write you a letter.”

“Gross – you wrote a list?”

“Yeah. I spent a lot of time thinking about how to get you to like me; I thought if my confession wasn’t perfect you’d for sure reject me.”

“You were in alien pajamas,” Hajime says. Tooru waves a hand.

“Minor details.”

“And I would’ve said yes any way you confessed, dumbass. You didn’t have to stress yourself out like that.”

”Oh,” Tooru says, touched. “Iwa-chan, I really like you.” Hajime smiles into his palm.

“I’d hope so,” he replies, ridiculously affectionate. Tooru’s heart feels overfull, and he thinks that maybe Kuroo calling him a sad old man wasn’t the worst thing ever after all.

**Author's Note:**

> [ twt ]
> 
> happy oikawa day!! the working title for this fic was “oikawa is stupid” and that’s still the most accurate title i can think of
> 
> if you liked this, maybe leave a kudos or a comment? i respond to everyone because i love talking to you!!
> 
> thank you so much for reading, and have a great day ♡


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